


under the shadow of '95

by callabang



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, Pennsylvania!, Philadelphia Flyers, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21863611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callabang/pseuds/callabang
Summary: Travis wants to be alone, but he also wants to keep Patty right where he can see him, so maybe he doesn’t want to be alone.Maybe he wants to be away.
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 28
Kudos: 300
Collections: Hockey Holidays 2019





	under the shadow of '95

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

> Written for NetSticksNChill for Hockey Holidays 2019. I hope you enjoy! Many thanks to D. for the beta.
> 
> Title from “Cardinal” by Mt. Joy.

Travis gets home from their final game of the season, lays down on the floor of the living room, and screams for a full forty-five seconds. It feels — well, it doesn’t feel good, because their season is over and it’s only fucking April, but it feels right, in some way. Fitting. By the time his voice gives out, he’s conscious of his heart pounding in his ears, the scratchiness in his throat, the way his face feels hot and red. He has to take several gasping breaths afterward, lungs straining from the exertion, but somehow that doesn’t do anything to fix the scooped-out, hollow feeling in his chest.

The wood floor is hard underneath him. He lifts his head a little, lets his skull bounce off the floor. It hurts. He does it again.

They’d been eliminated from playoff contention a while ago, but somehow knowing that hadn’t made it feel any less awful. He’d driven Patty back to their building in unhappy silence. Patty hadn’t even said anything, just slammed the car door getting out and then fucking sprinted inside. Hadn’t even held the elevator for him. Travis hopes he’s okay.

Eventually, he peels himself off the floor and goes to the kitchen for a water bottle, because that’s what you’re supposed to do after games. Rehydrate. God knows he sweats enough on the ice.

He drinks the water standing in front of the open fridge. The handle is warm and clammy under his palm. When he’s done, he closes the fridge and takes off his suit jacket, and then, without stopping, takes all the rest of clothes off too, until he’s standing in the kitchen in boxers with an empty water bottle and his gameday suit puddled on the floor. 

He leaves it there in favor of crawling, miserable, into bed.

When he wakes up in the morning, he feels more manic and less miserable, so he gets dressed and goes downstairs and lets himself into Patty’s apartment.

Patty is awake, which is a miracle. He’s sitting at his kitchen table with his head buried in his folded arms. His phone is out on the table next to him, and Travis can see from the doorway that he has the UberEats app open.

“Patty,” he says. He feels a little crazed and also like his mouth isn’t connected to his body. He wants to stop thinking about hockey. He wants to be alone, but he also wants to keep Patty right where he can see him, so maybe he doesn’t want to be alone. Maybe he wants to be away.

“Patty, cancel your order.”

Patty doesn’t move at all, not a muscle, but he does give an annoyed sort of grunt. Travis goes and cancels the order himself. That makes Patty look up, at least. He looks annoyed, which is normal. Travis usually likes making him look like that, but only because he knows it won’t stick.

“Why the fuck did you do that? I already paid.” 

“Get your stuff and get in the car,” Travis says. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Patty says. He’s somehow managing to look confused while maintaining the annoyance. “What stuff?”

“Whatever stuff you need for a week,” Travis says, already heading out the door. “We’re going for a drive.”

…

When Travis comes back downstairs with a hastily-packed duffle bag and his keys, Patty is in the same position, face in his arms, but his shoes are on and his backpack is on the floor next to the table. 

“Ready, bud?” Travis says. Once again, Patty doesn’t answer, so Travis gets closer and jingles the keys at him. Patty still doesn’t move, so Travis has no choice but to get a hand in the hood of his sweatshirt and start dragging him up. Even once Patty is standing, Travis doesn’t let go, just stoops to grab Patty’s backpack. If Patty gets pulled down with him, well, that’s Patty’s fault for being an ass.

Travis starts marching them towards the door, ignores the way Patty is hunched over awkwardly behind him, his hoodie all twisted around. 

“This is kidnapping, you know,” Patty says, struggling not to trip over his or Travis’s feet.

“What are you going to do about it?” Travis says, but he lets Patty go regardless.

…

It takes forever to get out of Philly, which is par for the course, but once they get on the Schuylkill Expressway it’s a little better. It’s early enough that there aren’t many people on the road, and Patty does what he always does on road trips: he curls up in the passenger seat and goes to sleep. Travis drives in silence for a while, thinking about where they might be able to go, the feeling of the engine rumbling by his feet, the shape of Patty next to him — anything but the fact that it’s the second week of April and he’s not playing hockey. 

Beside him, Patty grumbles sleepily and pulls his hoodie more firmly over his eyes. 

Travis wonders if he’s really asleep or just dozing. He hopes he’s not getting in his head. Patty has a tendency to do that, and he doesn’t deserve it. It was a shitty end to the season, but it’s no one’s fault. Win as a team, lose as a team, and all that. He’ll make sure Patty knows.

…

Patty finally rejoins the land of the living two hours outside Philly, and only because Travis pulls over at a Wawa to get gas and something to eat.

“Thank god, I’m fucking starving,” Patty says, and he’s out of the car and halfway across the parking lot before Travis has even shut off the gas.

“Get me a bacon egg and cheese!” Travis shouts after him. “On a croissant!”

Patty waves dismissively over his shoulder. He better fucking get Travis breakfast.

Travis fills up the tank and parks the car, and then meets Patty coming out with a cardboard drink tray and two plastic bags. 

“What’d you get?” Travis asks, poking through the bags. 

“Breakfast sandwiches, coffee, pretzels,” Patty says, “Tasty Kakes. Unlock the car.”

Travis unlocks the car and puts an entire soft pretzel into his mouth.

“You’re disgusting,” Patty says, taking a prim princess sip of his coffee. He pretends he likes black coffee the best but he put french vanilla in there, Travis just knows it. 

Travis starts the car and tries to speak around the pretzel. “You love me anyway.”

…

It turns out there’s a lot of shit to do in Pennsylvania. They stop to see a railroad museum on the first day, which Travis thinks is supremely boring but Patty seems weirdly into. They stop for lunch at a roadside bar, and Travis watches in horrified awe as Patty tries to cram a burger the size of his fist into his mouth. And Patty calls  _ him  _ disgusting, Jesus Christ. They get back in the car and Patty drives until they find a motel that doesn’t look too grimy, and Travis passes out watching the play of light on Patty’s face as he scrolls through his phone. 

…

In the morning, they eat breakfast from a vending machine while Patty pulls up a map on his phone. It turns out they haven’t actually gone that far, which kind of makes sense — it’s not like Travis had a destination in mind, or even any purpose at all besides fleeing the city and occupying his thoughts with something beside the bitter feelings lingering in his chest. But apparently that’s not good enough for Patty, judging by the way he’s squinting at his phone.

“You’re not driving me in circles for the next week,” he says. He has powdered sugar from his vending machine donuts all over his sleeve. Travis is so fond of him. “If we’re doing this, we’re  _ doing  _ this.”

So Travis watches as Patty drops pins in the places he wants to go, and then fifteen minutes later when Patty tells him to turn left, Travis puts on his blinker.

…

They drive to HersheyPark, and even though they paid for actual ride tickets they end up just going on the Factory Tour, like, fifteen times. They drive to the Crayola Crayon factory, and Travis buys a 120-count box of crayons for himself and then another one for Patty, because he doesn’t want Patty fucking stealing his crayons. They drive to Centralia, because apparently it’s some sort of abandoned town that’s permanently on fire, which sounds cool as hell. It turns out it’s mostly just asphalt covered in spray-painted dicks, which isn’t quite as metal. Still cool, though. They drive to a different railroad museum, this time in Scranton, and then they try to find the office building from The Office but it turns out it’s actually in Los Angeles. They drive to the Coudersport Ice Mine, and a guide yells at Travis for touching the ice (but, come on, dude, it’s  _ right  _ there). 

They drive to see the ruins of Kinzua Bridge, and Patty pretends he’s not shitting his pants as they inch out onto the skywalk. Travis lets him hold his hand as a gesture of support. Far below them are the twisted metal ruins, strewn across the green of the valley. 

“Kind of crazy, huh?” Travis says. Patty’s gripping his hand tightly, and Travis knows he’s gonna make them leave the skywalk in a minute. He gives Patty’s hand a squeeze, and they stand there until Patty gives an abrupt curse and starts power-walking back to solid ground. Travis laughs the whole way there.

…

There’s been a lot of motels and a lot of shitty fast food. This is probably the one time in the year where they don’t have to worry about their diet plans, and they make the most of it. Travis takes them to a Taco Bell so he can inhale four soft-shell tacos and a Crunchwrap Supreme. Patty makes them go to Wendy’s after so he can get a Frosty. But eventually, the appeal of eating inside the car wears off, so they’re at a dive bar in walking distance of the motel when Travis comes back from the bathroom to see some guy leaning close into Patty’s space. Patty’s at a bar stool and the guy is all casual, hip cocked against the bar, one hand almost touching Patty’s wrist, and — oh. 

The thing is, Patty had come out to them all months ago, way back at the beginning of the season, and he’d been pretty upfront about the fact that he didn’t want any wingmanning. Hard enough being a gay hockey player without your bozo teammates getting involved, Travis guesses. But here in the middle of nowhere, nondescript clothes and his greasy hair jammed into his snapback, Patty might have, well. More of an opportunity. 

That’s what Travis is thinking as he walks back over, which doesn’t explain why he also feels like his brain is shorting out, just a little bit. It definitely doesn’t explain why he leans into Patty’s other side, palms the small of his back, and says, voice cool, “Hey, dude, what’s up?”

The guy snatches his hand back, shoots Travis a glare, and leaves. Patty turns to look at him.

“What was that?” he asks, with surprisingly little rancor, as Travis watches the guy retreat.

“What was what?” Travis replies, knowing even as he says it that he’s not getting away with anything.

Patty quirks an eyebrow. “We’re talking about this,” he says, just as the bartender is putting their food down and refilling the beers. 

Travis sighs. “Food first?”

Patty toasts him, first with beer and then with his burger. “Obviously.”

… 

The walk back to the motel isn’t long, but Travis drags his feet a little, kicking at the weeds growing along the sidewalk while he tries to sort himself out. He thinks about the end of the season, a slow slog with nothing to show for it, and how much he wants Patty to feel okay, and how Patty is the only thing that makes him feel settled in his body, sometimes. He thinks about the way Patty looks sitting next to him in the car, tongue poking out as he picks through his collection of identical sadboy playlists. He thinks about holding Patty’s hand.

When they get inside, Patty sits on his bed and watches as Travis kicks his shoes off and collapses onto his own mattress. He rubs his hands over his face, scratches through his goatee. He can feel Patty’s eyes on him.

“What’s going on with you, bud?” Patty asks, mildly. 

“Nothing,” Travis says. He closes his eyes almost all the way, until he can see his own lashes, little blurs against the overhead light.

“Really?” Patty says. “Because I had to cancel my flight home to go on this road trip with you, and also you got weird at the bar, so. It seems like something might be going on.”

Travis shrugs as much as he can while laying on the shitty bedspread of a thirty-five dollar a night motel. “You could have said no.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Patty says. Travis doesn’t answer him, and Patty says, a little sharper, “Teeks.”

Travis opens his eyes, turns to Patty. Like always.

“I didn’t say no,” Patty says. 

Travis swallows. His tongue feels thick in his mouth. “Oh,” he says. For once Patty doesn’t look annoyed. Just, like. Fond, mostly.

“Yeah, idiot,” Patty says, and he meets Travis’s eyes as Travis gets up and takes two steps to close the gap between them. Standing like this he’s taller than Patty, and he feels Patty’s hands on his hips as he tips his face up and their lips meet. 

The kiss is surprisingly gentle, and Patty breaks off in the middle to press his face into Travis’s sternum. Travis can feel him huff a laugh. He tugs the bottom of Patty’s hair, just lightly. 

“What is it?”

Patty thunks his head against Travis. “I can’t believe you made drive halfway to fucking Buffalo to do this.”

“Hey,” Travis says, as Patty gets a hand in his collar and tugs him down. “You didn’t say no.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/callabang_)!


End file.
